


you tethered me to you

by asael



Series: lake song [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Excessive Amounts of Worldbuilding, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28393914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asael/pseuds/asael
Summary: Dimitri has come a long way, and through it all Claude has made his own quiet journey. Now he only needs to walk the last few steps on his path and accept the love that is freely given. But it's never that easy, not when you're still learning what trust means.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: lake song [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659037
Comments: 28
Kudos: 130





	you tethered me to you

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last part of [a series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659037), and won't make much sense without reading the other parts. If you have, then welcome! I hope the journey has been satisfying and that the ending is just as much so, and thank you for waiting this long for it! Almost a whole year, but here they are at the end. ♥ It's been a lot of fun and very rewarding for me to write, and I hope you enjoy it too!

Trust had always been a difficult thing for Claude.

That had been true since he was a child - true long enough that he couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t careful with his trust. He’d learned very young that it was all too easy for people to turn on him, to hurt him, to hide their intentions or their hatred. He’d grown up like that, and it had become a part of him, enough so that he hadn’t made a real friend until he left Almyra entirely and started what amounted to a new life.

And even then, even when he found that he could make friends, that they wouldn’t always be waiting for the right moment to plunge in the knife - even then, he couldn’t trust them enough to be honest.

It had taken long years and slow change before he began to truly place his trust in others. That, and he’d had no choice. A king could not rule a country alone, especially one who many of his people looked at with suspicion. He’d needed councillors and advisers, ministers and generals. He knew he wouldn’t be able to trust them all, but he had to try, because it simply wasn’t possible to do anything else.

At the beginning, it had been difficult. He had been betrayed, as he’d known he would be, in small ways and large. There were assassination attempts, more subtle power grabs, people trying to win his favor for their own ends. It was nothing he hadn’t expected. He’d dealt with it as he had to, and in the end - after years of struggle, years of watching his back - he’d ended up with a court full of people who, if they could not always be trusted, could at least be expected to betray him in ways he could plan for.

He’d even found a few rare people who he did trust, thoroughly and truly. Nader, the general of Almyra’s armies, one of the first to choose to follow Claude. And how could he not, he said, after he’d seen what Claude had done in Fódlan? Nader respected nothing more than strength, and Claude had utterly proven his. His influence had won over many, though Claude never trusted any of them as much.

Most of his other early allies had not been Almyran. Byleth, of course, who ruled a united Fódlan and gave Claude what support they could. Hilda, who sent her brother to make peace on the border. Lorenz, who argued the Alliance into supporting the new ruler of Almyra as well. Dedue, one of the first to respond to Claude’s request for renewed trade and international exchange, who quietly offered Claude a friendship he had never expected.

They had shown him that it was possible to trust and not be betrayed. They had convinced him - over time, and without meaning to - that perhaps he could trust others to protect him, as well.

All past Almyran kings had royal guards. They were meant to be sworn to the king alone, utterly loyal, different from the palace guards or the city guard or the armies. They were meant to give up everything to serve their king. Over time, that had changed - over time, the royal guard had become a place for the king’s favorites, or for younger sons looking for glory, a path to power and riches.

Claude had originally planned to dismiss the royal guard entirely. He could certainly use greed and lust for power to control people, but he could not then trust those people to guard his back. He would have their loyalty only so long as they believed he was their best path to what they wanted, and Claude already knew well how easily that could change. Better to dissolve the guard than to keep it as a testament to corruption and favoritism. He could watch his own back, as he always had. 

But somehow, that changed. Whether it was the effect of his time in Fódlan or the friendships that solidified after, he was never sure. He had dismissed his father’s royal guard - all kings did, when taking the throne - but when Nasrin had come to him weeks later, asking to take vows as his first royal guard, he had not refused.

He hadn’t accepted either, not immediately. He’d had to think about it, to consider his choices, consider how well he might be able to trust anyone. If it hadn’t been Nasrin, he might not have considered it at all, but she had helped him when he was young. When he was lonely and hated.

She’d been only vaguely connected to the court, a woman whose brother held their family title, a woman who had never married. She had no real power, but she was known for her skill with poisons, the fact whispered throughout the palace, and after the second time Claude had barely survived a poisoning, he’d sought her out. He’d been so young - if he had been older he might not have, fearing her becoming an enemy as well. 

But he hadn’t been quite that cautious yet. Instead he’d been scared, lonely, searching for anything that might help him. And, to his later surprise, she had.

She had been more like a distant mentor than a friend. She’d given him books, helped him to teach himself, shown him a few things when he asked. She had known better than to give him open support, not when she had no protection from those who would want him dead - but her quiet, subtle support had kept him alive more than once.

And when he had become king, she’d come to him, older now and with even more knowledge.

She hadn’t flattered him. She hadn’t spun pretty lies about how much she’d always fought for him, that she had always been on his side. Instead, she’d looked him in the eye and said, “I knew that if you survived your childhood you would be meant for great things.” And then she asked if he would accept her loyalty. 

Eventually, he’d said yes. He’d said yes, and had then decided to return the royal guard to what it had once been. Anyone who wished to join would have to give up everything in order to do so - otherwise, how could Claude begin to try to trust them? And even then, once it was known that he was forming his own guard, he had to turn away some who came to him with ulterior motives. Some were obvious, some less so - and some Claude was never sure about. But if he couldn’t be certain, he turned them away. He had to trust these people more than anyone, trust them with his life and his secrets. That had never, _would_ never, be easy.

Still, he found a way. After Nasrin there was Firuzeh, Nader’s strong-willed daughter, one of the best wyvern riders Claude had ever seen. Then Jahan and Roshan, two sworn siblings as different as night and day, born in the slums and fiercely loyal. Eloise, daughter of a Goneril branch family, young enough that she’d learned how to wield an axe from Hilda herself. Vinay, a man from one of the countries past Almyra’s eastern border, his style of swordsmanship different from anything Claude had seen.

Such a small group compared to the royal guards of the past, but each and every one Claude knew intimately. He would have called them friends, in another life, but in this one he was their liege lord, and while he encouraged them to treat him casually, he tried never to forget that they had all vowed to give their lives for his. ‘Friends’ was too casual a term for the trust he placed in them and the loyalty they gave him in return.

And now there was another added to their ranks.

It had been a handful of years since Vinay had made his vows, and though there had been a few who had sought to join the guard since then, Claude had refused them all. But he couldn’t refuse this. He couldn’t refuse Dimitri.

He hadn’t expected it - would never have considered it, really. Dimitri had been meant to be a king. Even though he had long since lost his throne, even though he’d stated clearly that he would not attempt to regain it, there had always been a part of Claude that thought of him as a king. Probably there always would be. If he’d expected anything, it was that Dimitri would want to settle down somewhere quiet, focus on his recovery, find peace and meaning.

He had not imagined that, instead, Dimitri would ask to take a vow to protect Claude with all that he was for the rest of his life.

Even now, Claude didn’t know what to think about it. Part of him worried that it had been done out of gratitude - that Dimitri felt like he owed Claude, and this was how he thought he could repay his debt. Or perhaps it was simply that after so long in Claude’s palace Dimitri had forgotten what else he could have, forgotten the wide world out there that might hold a far more real happiness.

But in the end, Claude knew that he had to trust Dimitri. Trust that this was truly what he wanted, trust him to know his own wishes and needs. Claude’s doubts were not always correct - more and more these days, that seemed to be the case. And Dimitri -

Claude had long ago chosen to trust Dimitri.

It had come in stages, slowly but surely. Even when they’d been young and foolish and caught up in each other, Claude had kept secrets, but he’d still chosen to trust Dimitri with his friendship and his affections. Dimitri had not betrayed him - they’d been split apart by war, not anyone’s faithless heart. When they’d been together, Dimitri had always been kind to him, had always been true. He’d been careful with Claude in a way that Claude had not expected, a way that snuck past his defenses.

And then, so many years later, when Dimitri had been delivered to Claude’s doorstep broken and lost, Claude had chosen to trust him again. He’d trusted Dimitri to find his balance, to set his own pace. He’d trusted Dimitri more than Dimitri had trusted himself - and he thought it had helped, he thought perhaps that’s what Dimitri had needed at that time.

Since that was the case, he could not fail to trust Dimitri in this, as well. And so he had accepted, and Dimitri had knelt at Claude’s feet and sworn to give his life to Claude, and Claude had tried not to give any sign of how that made his heart ache.

He didn’t even know if his heart ached because he did not want this for Dimitri, or because he wanted it so desperately.

Ever since Dimitri had come to Almyra, Claude had tried not to let his own desires affect anything. Dimitri had been fragile, wracked with guilt and seeking any kind of forgiveness he might be able to find. Claude had seen all too clearly how easily that could be used to manipulate him - all he’d have had to do was drop a few hints, ask gently for what he wanted, and Dimitri would have torn his own heart out to give it to him.

It had helped that at the beginning all Claude had truly wanted was Dimitri’s recovery. He didn’t need power - he was already king. He didn’t need the former King of Faerghus at his command - he already had plenty of influence with King Byleth of Fódlan. He had barracks full of warriors, so he didn’t need a mad dog on a leash. All he needed, all he wanted, was for Dimitri to find himself again.

But as Dimitri had found himself again, that began to change.

It wasn’t anything concrete, nothing Claude could easily put a name to. It was only that he began to want more - selfish things. He wanted Dimitri near him, wanted to spend time with him, talk to him. Dimitri knew him in a way that no one else did. Everyone else who’d known Claude at Garreg Mach were living their own lives now, and though he wrote to them and some of them occasionally visited, it wasn’t the same. He had been their commander, their lord, and now he was a foreign king.

Dimitri knew he had changed, knew the world had changed, but he still treated Claude with the same care that he always had. He spoke to him like an equal, which Claude thought was probably subconscious. If asked directly, Dimitri would likely have said he was not Claude’s equal, not after everything, but he had been raised to be a prince, a king, and that was still part of him.

He didn’t want anything from Claude except safety, friendship, peace. He had no ulterior motives, no reason for betrayal, and if there was one thing that remained true about Dimitri it was that he was simply too sincere, too just for that sort of thing. He might lose himself, might fall to anger and madness and grief, but deliberate betrayal? Never.

Claude had begun visiting Dimitri regularly to give him some sense of familiarity, of friendship. Then Dimitri found his way back to himself, and slowly Claude realized he was visiting simply to be around him, to talk to him and share meals with him.

He didn’t think it would last. He’d expected Dimitri to want to return to Faerghus, even if it wasn’t as king - and then, when Dimitri made it clear he had no wish to return, Claude had thought that he would want a life of his own far from all this eventually. He’d expected it, but he hadn’t wanted it. It had been a quiet, embarrassing struggle to force himself to be supportive no matter what Dimitri chose, because more and more, Claude found that he did not want to let Dimitri go.

He tried never to show it, of course, and he thought he had succeeded. If he looked toward the future with some melancholy, knowing Dimitri’s path would separate from his, well - Claude had always been very practiced at hiding his more vulnerable feelings.

But Dimitri had stayed. Dimitri had chosen a life at his side, against all of Claude’s expectations. And now Claude could do little but be thankful for that - for how far Dimitri had come, and how he had chosen this life, of all the lives he could have.

And Dimitri truly had come a long, long way. Once, he’d barely recognized Claude. Once, he’d spent days at a time sunken into madness, seeing ghosts and with little awareness of the world around him. He had said once, quietly, that he would never truly be recovered. But Claude could see the painstaking progress he had made, and he didn’t think it mattered that Dimitri could not go back to the man he had once been. He was someone else now, and all the stronger for it.

The rest of his royal guard had never known who Dimitri was - they only knew him now. Some, who had been there when he arrived, knew how far he had come, but none were the sort to disdain him or view him with suspicion. Indeed, they saw his strength and they respected it, welcoming him as they had once welcomed each other.

They called him Nicolai, though they all knew that wasn’t the name he’d been born with. Claude still called him Dimitri in private, and always would, but to the world he was Nicolai now. Claude only did it because he wanted to hold on to some small piece of their past. They’d both changed so much, come so far, but that shared past would always lay between them, comforting and bittersweet.

Dimitri, he knew, had been concerned about finding his place among the guard. He’d had nothing like real work since he came to Almyra, focusing on recovery instead. But he’d always been serious and dedicated, preferring his days neat and routine, and so it was easy for him to transition into the routine of being a royal guard.

Generally, Claude had one of them nearby him at all times in the palace. He would, of course, slip off on his own occasionally - his need for solitude outweighing his need for safety. Besides, he’d argued to Nasrin, his unofficial captain, he was perfectly capable of protecting himself.

“Of course you are,” she’d said, unmoved. “But you’re the king now, and you shouldn’t have to.”

Whether she was right or not, by now she knew most of his preferred spots to be alone, and often when he left his favorite alcove in the library or the quiet corner of the gardens he’d find one of his guard waiting outside, far enough away to provide the illusion of privacy but close enough to come running if needed. He had somewhat reluctantly accepted this, knowing they were only trying to do their jobs.

For formal audiences, two guards would stand at either side of him, with palace guards at the doors. The palace guards were not hand-picked, and therefore Claude couldn’t really trust them - which seemed paranoid, except shortly after he ascended the throne one of his nobles had bribed five of the palace guards to murder him in the baths, and he’d barely gotten out alive. He’d purged the palace guard as well as he could and there’d been no such betrayals since, but Claude knew most were loyal to the country, not to him personally. He tried never to forget the difference.

When he left the palace, visiting the city or traveling through his country, he somewhat reluctantly accepted the presence of as many of his guard as wished to come. He’d left that decision to them - their idea of what was safe was rather different than his own, and he’d been through enough arguments by now to know that it was just easier to leave it to them. 

“A king getting bullied by his own royal guards,” he’d complained dramatically to Firuzeh, “it’s not fair. I should have you all executed.”

She had just laughed. The truth was, Claude found himself surprised by how he came to see them as a comfort. As trusted guards, yes, but also as allies who he could turn to when needed. He’d gone from chafing at their constant presence to a quiet comfort knowing they were there. He didn’t know when it had changed. He only knew that it felt incredible to know he had so many who he could trust.

He hadn’t known how Dimitri would fit in - if he would fit in at all. It wasn’t as if his guard were the sort to alienate, but he thought it was possible that they were even more distrustful of the people who got close to him than he was. Of course, that was technically their job. Still, when Dimitri knelt and vowed to serve and protect Claude, Claude had worried somewhere in the back of his mind that they would not accept him.

That worry had turned out to be foolish. And really, shouldn’t he have known?

They had all seen him with Dimitri before. They’d accompanied him to Dimitri’s room for tea, or watched him sit with Claude at court dinners. They’d trailed Claude and Dimitri on walks through the gardens. Firuzeh and Nasrin and even Vinay had trained with him, tested their skills against his own and helped him recover the strength he’d once had. They all _knew_ him

And when Claude mentioned quietly to Nasrin that he hoped they’d welcome Dimitri, she had laughed.

“We knew that he would join us before he did,” she said. “We were just waiting for him to figure it out himself.”

He wondered why they’d thought that. He wondered what they’d seen in Dimitri that he hadn’t, what it was that had made him doubt that Dimitri would stay by his side even as those he trusted most had never doubted it. It was a flaw in himself, probably.

They did accept him, of course. Dimitri did not need to be coddled, but it was true that he was still on the long path of recovery. Generally, Claude did nothing to influence his guards’ decisions about schedules and assignments, but he noticed how they had carefully shaped themselves to ease Dimitri into this new lifestyle. He rarely came out into the city with Claude, still sometimes having trouble with the bustle of crowds. In the beginning, as well, Dimitri rarely guarded Claude alone - which seemed not to be a comment on his trustworthiness, but rather a way to allow him to retreat if he needed time.

It wasn’t pity. It was practicality, everyone learning how to work with this new and strange addition to their ranks. It was no different than the way they quietly worked with Roshan’s missing hand, or Nasrin’s aging body. And as Dimitri became more comfortable with his new role, Claude saw him grow more confident, saw his other guards grow friendlier, saw everything fit together in a way he hadn’t been sure was possible.

He couldn’t deny that it was nice to have Dimitri around. While sometimes he acted as though his guards were not there, needing to focus on something else or maintain an illusion of privacy, Claude was still often friendlier with them than he could remember his father ever being. Guarding would become a conversation, or they would share a meal with him, never neglecting their duty as they did so. Claude preferred it that way - he’d always preferred things casual, and he wanted to know the people he trusted with his safety. He wanted to hear stories about Jahan’s pet birds, or Firuzeh’s latest argument with her father. He wanted to know them, because if he knew them, he’d know they were trustworthy.

And, after all, he’d already been in the habit of spending time with Dimitri. They’d eaten together, walked together. It was a comfort now to have that still, to be able to turn to him and ask about his most recent letter from Sylvain or how his meetings with Thaddea, his healer from Dagda, were going.

Dimitri had quiet questions sometimes too, when Claude was not busy. He had attended few formal court functions before becoming part of Claude’s royal guard, and now that he was one of the silent presences at Claude’s back, he was seeing all of them. Afterward, he would often have questions - usually about language. His grasp of Almyran was good, but the flowery language used by Claude’s court at official events was not something anyone not raised in the court would understand easily. In fact, all of Claude’s guard save Nasrin and Firuzeh were not originally Almyran nobles, so many of the questions were ones he’d answered before.

He liked it. Claude had always loved sharing his culture, showing others the things about Almyra that were unique and beautiful, as well as the things that anyone might understand - the things that would forge a connection. And Dimitri had always wanted to learn. When they had been children, together at the Academy, he’d always shown such sincere interest when Claude went off on tangents about whatever struck his fancy - though, of course, he’d avoided Almyran topics completely back then.

Now he didn’t have to. Now he could be honest about his home, he could show Dimitri everything that he’d once wished to. It was different, of course, they were different now - but that mattered far less than Claude had once thought it might. And so he answered Dimitri’s questions, and saw him begin to learn about the land whose king he now served.

But he _was_ still learning. Which was why, when the courting gifts began, Claude assumed it was accidental.

It was a small braided garland of evening lilies first, gently set next to his meal one evening when he was eating alone in his study, working on the draft of a new treaty with Morfis. He looked up and smiled at Dimitri. “My favorite. They’re lovely, thank you.” Dimitri smiled and Claude traced one finger along a soft petal, thinking nothing of it.

Then it was a book, a volume of dry research on the spirit magic of Brigid, the sort of thing that would only be interesting to serious academics and Claude. That was when he started to wonder. The fact was, Dimitri had rarely given him gifts before, so Claude wasn’t sure why he would start doing so now. Gratitude? An attempt to repay what Claude had done for him? It wasn’t necessary, and Claude wanted to say so, but he also wanted Dimitri to do as he pleased, and… well, really he didn’t want to give the book back. He’d been looking for it for ages.

There was this, too: those two gifts were the beginning of a formal Almyran courtship ritual. A garland of flowers, to signal interest and affection, followed by a gift of something more practical and personal, to show that you understood them as a person and not merely an object of desire. 

Claude had been courted before. He knew the rituals, though in truth he usually issued a refusal quickly. He could often tell when someone had ulterior motives, and would refuse after the flowers - and if not, then after the personal gift, because it was always very clear that they had no idea what he, as a person, might enjoy. 

Claude had never been interested in taking lovers just because he was bored and they had a pretty face. He was too cautious for that, he knew far better than to allow himself to be swayed by lust. He’d slipped up once or twice, when he was young and foolish, and had luckily managed to make it out with both his heart and his throne intact. Since then, he’d allowed himself only brief casual arrangements, and even that he’d avoided after his last lover had not-so-subtly tried to use their involvement to push through a trade agreement that vastly favored his family.

Of course, Claude had known better than to trust him, but he’d really thought they’d been on the same page: that their connection had nothing to do with politics, only conversation and mutual enjoyment. But some people, seeing power, could not resist reaching for it. Claude didn’t enjoy being used, and since then he’d refused all suitors. By Almyran custom, he did not need to marry unless he wished for an heir, and since part of the long-term reforms he was working on included placing power in the hands of the people instead of the bloodlines of nobles, he had no intention or desire for one.

So he remained unmarried and alone. And that was fine. But now Dimitri was giving him gifts that looked awfully like the opening to an Almyran courtship, and Claude -

Claude had to assume it was accidental. They were both things Dimitri knew he liked, and there was no reason to jump to any conclusion. And wasn’t it kind of arrogant, really, to assume such a thing? Claude tried to push it from his mind, tried to ignore the way his heart had beat a little harder in that moment when he’d thought, _But maybe -_

It had to be a coincidence, Claude thought, so he didn’t say anything. Not then, not to Dimitri. But he couldn’t quite forget the softness in Dimitri’s eyes when he’d presented the book, couldn’t forget his quiet pleasure when Claude accepted it.

And then Dimitri brought him a rokh egg.

In legends, the rokh was a bird large enough to prey on wyverns. Perhaps it had been once, but though the birds were large, they weren’t that big anymore. They were fierce still, though, and rare, and they lined their nests with a certain sort of precious stone that they shone into a gleaming brightness. Their young were born alive, and so the stones were called rokh eggs and were greatly treasured. To obtain one required cunning and strength, as rokh defended their nests viciously.

The next step in a traditional Almyran courtship involved proving one’s strength. It involved a trophy - a defeated enemy, or the head of a monster, or a treasure difficult to win.

Like a rokh egg.

When Dimitri had asked for permission to leave the capital for awhile, Claude had thought nothing of it. He’d begun doing so from time to time when he was not on duty, journeying outside of the city and learning the land, though he never left for long. He didn’t usually travel alone, but this time he had, and Claude had only been pleased - pleased that Dimitri felt comfortable enough to do so, pleased that he was truly beginning to find his place.

But this, he didn’t know what to do with.

They were in his study. Dimitri was kneeling, the egg nesting in gray silk in his hands. It shone like the summer sky, a beautiful blue that reminded Claude rather insistently of the man in front of him. His heart beat hard, and he searched for the right words. What came out in the end was, “Dimitri, are you courting me?”

He wanted to wince at the way he sounded, the mingled surprise and disbelief. He sounded like a fool, and perhaps he was one, if it had taken him this long to realize. Still, some part of Claude believed that it was an accident, that perhaps on his journey he’d simply stumbled across a rokh nest. Which was silly, because no one _accidentally_ scaled a cliff to the heights the birds preferred.

Dimitri smiled, and if there was an edge of uncertainty to it, Claude couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t exactly responding to this as well as he ought to. “Yes.”

_Are you sure?_ , Claude wanted to say, but he stopped himself. Perhaps once Dimitri had been impulsive, but that was true no longer, and hadn’t been true for a long time. He was careful now, cautious. He thought his decisions through and made them fully aware of what he was doing. Claude knew that, it was why he trusted Dimitri to make the right choices for himself.

It was just hard for him to believe, somehow, that he thought this was the right choice.

Dimitri’s gaze softened, as if he could see Claude’s internal struggle. And perhaps he could. They’d spent so much time together, and for all that Claude naturally tried to hide his weaknesses, he’d become more open with Dimitri. Dimitri had known him when they were children, when he was young and full of ambition, and he knew him now, with that ambition realized but still always striving for more.

Claude had never really spoken about his fears, his insecurities, but even when they’d been young he’d known that Dimitri had picked up on some of them anyway. His mask was good, but it wasn’t flawless, and when they were alone together it had been hard to always keep the act up.

“You don’t have to answer me now. And if you refuse, I won’t take it poorly.” Dimitri did not rise, keeping himself below Claude, looking up at him. It was a deliberate choice, Claude realized, because if he stood Claude would then have to look up to him, the power would shift, the pressure might be heavier. Claude felt a spike of affection go through him like a blade. “I only want to do this properly, as you deserve. I want my intentions to be clear.”

They had not courted when they were children, not really. It had all been sly glances and Claude’s teasing, time spent together and stolen kisses. They’d both known that formal courtship wasn’t possible for them, so though Dimitri had once or twice given him flowers, and Claude had occasionally reciprocated with small gifts, they’d both steered clear from anything that would imply intention.

Faerghus had its own courtship rituals - Claude remembered searching out books in order to read about them, back in the first flush of infatuation. The Alliance did too, though they were less rigid. He’d had one or two daydreams that he’d known were ridiculous and impossible even then, daydreams about courting Dimitri properly or being courted himself. But any such official courtship would be the lead-up to a betrothal, a marriage contract, so they’d both known it was impossible. They’d never talked about it, though Claude had sometimes wondered if Dimitri had the same frivolous daydreams.

Even in his most frivolous daydreams, he hadn’t imagined Dimitri courting him in the Almyran fashion. It had fallen out of fashion among the common folk long ago, but Almyrans of noble blood still insisted on it for any formal connection - the gifts, the pursuit, the show of strength. Claude had been mocked about it as a child, other children saying no one would ever want him enough for that, saying that he would have to take whatever he could get.

At Garreg Mach, he’d hidden that side of himself, and so while he could imagine a courtship according to Faerghan or Alliance standards, he had not even considered… this. He didn’t even know where Dimitri would have learned such things, though it wasn’t as if courting rituals were secret. Still, the thought that he’d asked someone, that he’d sought out answers simply in order to court Claude…

How could something like that be possible?

And yet here Dimitri was, making his intentions crystal clear. Claude looked down at him, at that familiar face, scarred and aged from the boy he’d once been but no less handsome. He was speechless.

Dimitri seemed to see something in his face, because he smiled, a soft and sweet thing that was rare enough that even Claude hadn’t often seen it. “As I said, you don’t have to answer me now.” He reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers against Claude’s hands where they were cupped around the egg. “I know that you, of all people, will need time to think.”

Of course he did. Because he knew Claude well, had known him well for years. He knew that Claude could make snap decisions, but that he preferred time to think, to plan. He preferred to turn over every aspect of his possible decision, hold it up to the light, see if there were any flaws.

As a king, he was not always able to do so. As a man - as a man, Dimitri was content to give him that time. 

It was unfair, Claude thought, for Dimitri to know him so well and to smile at him like that.

He stood then, and he bowed. It still felt strange to see Dimitri bow before him. For all that Claude was now his liege lord, he could not so easily erase those many years he’d known Dimitri as a prince, a lost king. And Claude would always think of him as an equal. But he knew, too, that Dimitri enjoyed these small shows of loyalty.

“No more gifts,” Claude said softly, coming to that much of a decision at least. “You don’t need to prove yourself to me.”

Courtships like this could drag on, the pursued desiring more proof of interest or wealth or strength or simply seeing how far they could push their admirer. People did it for political reasons, for power, for fun. Among some nobles, it was considered a badge of pride to push a courtship as far as it could go, as if forcing their potential lover to humiliate themselves like that was proof of anything.

Claude had never liked that. He cut a courtship off cleanly, and usually early, and he had no need or desire to demand more from Dimitri. That he had done this much was already more than Claude had ever imagined.

“Yes, your majesty.” Dimitri smiled, a fainter one this time, and Claude frowned at him.

“And you can’t call me that when you’re courting me,” he said. He was king, but he’d never wished to be above his lovers. What he wanted, more than anything, was to be with someone who did not care that he was the king, or that he was different.

“Yes, Claude,” Dimitri said, and there was a teasing note to his voice, amusement and fondness. He looked at Claude once more, and then left - taking up a post outside Claude’s study.

Dimitri was the only one in the world who called him that regularly. Oh, most of the people he still knew in Fódlan did as well, of course, but he saw them so rarely. It was a precious bit of nostalgia. From Dimitri, it was a memory of a time he’d been just a boy. Not a king, not a general, not even a prince.

Just Claude.

He tried to get back to work, but it was difficult when every few moments his gaze drifted to the rokh egg resting on the edge of his desk. It was even more difficult when his thoughts circled back to Dimitri, again and again. Eventually, he buried his head in his hands, scolded himself for his foolishness, and gave up on it.

He wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else that day, he already knew.

  


* * *

  


By the time Claude emerged from his study, Dimitri’s guard shift was over. Nasrin had taken his place, and when she saw what Claude was holding, a smile split her wrinkled face.

“So,” she said, “our bashful Nicolai finally got up the courage to give you his courting gift.” It seemed that she’d been privy to quite a bit more than Claude had. He frowned at her.

“How long have you known that he was -” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it, perhaps because there was some part of Claude that still had trouble believing it.

“Courting you?” She laughed openly then. “I don’t usually see you so flustered, Khalid. I’m not sure whether I should interpret that as a good sign for your suitor or not.”

Claude passed a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes, and admitted, “I don’t know either.”

Her eyes softened, and when she spoke again it was a little gentler - though Nasrin was never particularly gentle even at the best of times. “I expected you to realize immediately. He’s always looked at you like you hung the stars. I was only surprised it took him this long to begin formally courting you.”

There was too much packed into those few sentences. Claude didn’t even know where to start. It felt like his thoughts were spinning away from him, like the world was trying to rearrange itself.

Did Dimitri really look at him like that? Had he always?

Nasrin looked him over and seemed to decide to have mercy. “Well, your personal affairs are none of my business, Khalid. Just don’t make the poor boy wait too long.” She nodded at the lovely stone in his hand. “He did climb a mountain for you, after all.”

He had. _Dimitri_ had done that, for him.

Claude had business to attend to. The work of a king, after all, was never done, and he owed it to his country and his people to set all of his attention to the tasks before him. And he did, but - at the back of his mind, he was always thinking of Dimitri.

He wished that he was better at making friends, wished that his position did not make it so difficult. Maybe then there would be someone he could go to, someone he could talk to about this. His closest friends in Almyra were his personal guard, and that was out of the question. If he could just fly to Goneril lands, steal Hilda for tea and her opinion - oh, but she’d laugh, though, and tease Claude terribly.

He wouldn’t mind that, if only she’d help him get his thoughts in order. But he couldn’t leave, not right then, not for such a frivolous thing.

In the end, Claude found himself up late that night, bent over the desk in his bedchambers, writing a letter to Dedue.

It would be impossible to write to Dedue and get a reply quickly enough to be of any use, Claude knew. But Dedue was the one Claude really wished he could speak to, even more than Hilda. Dedue knew them both - had known Dimitri for so long, loved him like the dearest brother. He’d known Claude for years now, too, and Claude considered him a trusted friend. He was sensible, kind, and - perhaps the most important thing right now - he had far more experience than Claude in matters of the heart.

It seemed strange to think that, when Claude was fairly sure he’d had more lovers than Dedue. But even now, after all these years, Claude had never really given his heart away. He’d always held back. He told himself it was for his country, that his first priority always had to be his people, not a lover. But he knew that it had been for his own protection, really.

He’d loved them - or some of them, at least. He’d loved Dimitri when they were young, that rush of uncontrolled youthful emotion. But he’d always held something back, and he’d been proven right to do so often enough that it was simply second nature.

But Dedue wasn’t like that. Neither was Dimitri. When they loved, the both of them, they loved with all of themselves. Claude had seen the way Dedue looked at Ashe, and the way Ashe looked back. He’d seen how much of themselves they’d given to each other. The trust, the honesty, the unhesitating support and love. That was what Dimitri would give him, if he allowed it. 

It was only that Claude did not know if he was capable of giving it back.

If he did this, he could not do it halfway. Dimitri, of all people, deserved better than that. Dimitri deserved to be loved fully, to be cherished and trusted and given everything a lover might have to give. If Claude couldn’t do that - if there was something in Claude that made it impossible for him to love anyone like that - all he would do was hurt Dimitri in the end. He would take and take, and never give back what Dimitri needed.

He spilled all of that into the letter he wrote, all his doubts and fears, his uncertainties. Then he read the letter, imagined Dedue - or anyone at all - reading it, and promptly burned it.

But, even burned, having written it settled something in him. He understood his own reluctance now. He understood what he needed to consider.

Despite that, he hadn’t achieved any real clarity. He still didn’t know what to do.

He sighed, pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, and started another letter. This time he left out all of his confusion about Dimitri, about his own feelings, his heart. If Dedue had been there in person, Claude thought he might have spoken to him about it, might have been honest, but putting it in a letter felt wrong.

There was no one in the palace he could talk to about this. Ironically, Dimitri was the one he’d often spoken to about more personal topics - their long friendship provided Dimitri with a surprising insight, and he saw things so differently than Claude that his advice was always welcome.

He could not seek that advice now. He needed to figure out his heart on his own.

He’d never been good at that.

  


* * *

  


Dimitri did not press him. He did his duty, staying at Claude’s side when he was needed, never faltering. He did not press his suit, did not demand a response. He just waited, patient and enduring, letting Claude think. 

He only wished he knew what conclusion he was coming to. It was unfair to make Dimitri wait, unfair to leave him in this state of uncertainty. Dimitri had made his choice, and he’d chosen bravery, he’d chosen to court _Claude_ , of all people. 

Anyone would be lucky to be the recipient of Dimitri’s affection. That was something Claude did not doubt or question. If Dimitri had been paying court to anyone but him, Claude would have supported him as much as he could, would have done whatever possible to give Dimitri the happiness he so desperately deserved.

If only, Claude thought with some bitter amusement, Dimitri had better taste.

But that wasn’t fair to Dimitri, and he knew it wasn’t fair to himself either. Dimitri’s heart had always been something so far beyond Claude’s understanding, even while Dimitri was one of the people he knew best in the world. The way he loved, the way he pledged his loyalty so fully - Claude could only admire it. It had been difficult enough to understand why Dimitri would choose to pledge himself to Claude. It seemed that Claude simply could not understand at all why Dimitri would choose to love him, as well.

But he knew it was true. Dimitri knew his own heart. Claude could not question that, even if he didn’t understand.

He wished, fruitlessly, that he had someone he could talk to who understood him the way Dedue did, the way Dimitri did, and then he realized how stupid he was being.

He did have that.

The next day, Claude went walking in the gardens, as was his wont when he had something on his mind that he couldn’t work out by poring over ancient books. He walked until he couldn’t be seen from the palace anymore, until he was sure that there were no prying eyes or hidden ears, and then he turned to his guard.

It was Dimitri that day. He had been carefully certain of that.

“Walk with me?” he said, and Dimitri lit up in a quietly delighted way that hit Claude’s heart.

“Of course,” Dimitri said. He had walked some distance behind his liege, providing the illusion of privacy while being close enough to protect him if needed. Claude wished it wasn’t, but he’d long since given up arguing with Nasrin about it. Especially when assassins _had_ found him there once.

Now Dimitri’s long legs ate up the distance between them until he was walking at Claude’s side instead. Claude glanced up at just the right moment to catch Dimitri’s smile down at him. 

_He could have anyone_ , Claude thought. Dimitri’s past didn’t matter here. His struggles, his need for assistance at times even now - it was true that some might be put off by that, but not all. He was handsome, kind, constantly striving to better himself. Claude knew how far he had come, how hard he had fought to be the man he was now. Anyone would be lucky to have the regard of such a man.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Claude said. He led them to one of the small benches scattered throughout the gardens. He sat, and Dimitri sat next to him, careful to leave some space between them.

Claude collected his thoughts as best he could. “I’m sorry I’ve made you wait so long.”

Dimitri shook his head. “I told you I would give you time.” And, with a sliver of a smile. “It’s only been a few days. I would give you far more than that.”

“I’m not so cruel as to leave you waiting for weeks,” Claude said. They’d slipped into the Fódlan tongue somewhere along the way. They didn’t always these days, now that Dimitri’s Almyran was easily good enough for him to make his way through the world, but Claude’s Fódlan was still better. He’d been speaking it with his mother since he was barely old enough to cling to her skirts. Just now, it felt necessary. He wanted to be certain they understood each other, and he wanted - 

He wanted these moments to be theirs alone. 

Claude had never been comfortable being vulnerable in front of people. The knowledge that only Dimitri would hear what he said here helped, even if a large part of him wasn’t even comfortable with that. But Dimitri had trusted him with so much - how could he not choose to trust Dimitri with even this much?

“I never expected you to court me.” He admitted it quietly, and he found that he couldn’t quite look at Dimitri as he did so. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to do it right.” Dimitri’s voice was quiet too, but still it filled the space between them. “You deserve at least that much, Claude. And I wanted my intentions to be clear.”

Claude looked up at Dimitri. Their eyes met, and whatever he’d been preparing to say fell away in that steady blue gaze, Dimitri’s patience and the unexpected openness that Claude saw there. When he spoke, what came out was totally unpracticed.

“I’m afraid,” he said, and he wanted to take the words back as soon as he had said them. But there they were, and he could laugh them off - change the subject, push forward - or he could give Dimitri the honesty that he deserved.

Claude sighed and rubbed his thumb against the bridge of his nose. He might as well go for it, then.

“I want to be able to give you everything that you deserve, Dimitri. But I’m the king, and - well, I’m me. I won’t always be able to. I don’t even know if I’m capable of the sort of love that you are.” He reached out, pressing his fingertips to Dimitri’s chest gently. “You’ve come so far. I don’t want to be the thing that breaks you.”

Dimitri smiled at him, a soft, heart-melting thing. He smiled as if Claude had said everything he could possibly have wanted to hear, even though Claude knew that was impossible. He raised his hand and captured Claude’s fingers in his own. “I thought it might be something like that.”

Claude could do nothing but blink in response.

“You are the smartest person I know, Claude, but you’ve never seen yourself clearly. Of course you are capable of love. You love so fiercely that you fought a war for it, so deeply that you left behind your life twice just for the chance to make your dreams happen. Because you love the world, and your home, and Fódlan - look at all you’ve done.” Dimitri leaned closer, large hand still wrapped around Claude’s. “I know you tell yourself that’s different, that it isn’t like loving a person. But I think they’re not as different as you believe.”

Part of Claude wanted to object. Part of him still wanted to laugh it off, to push this conversation into a lighter place. Was this how Dimitri saw him? How Dimitri had seen him all this time?

“You are far stronger and kinder than you believe yourself to be. I know that better than anyone - after all you have done for me, and with me, I know just how big your heart is, Claude. I ask for nothing except a small part of it.”

How was it fair for Dimitri to stand before him and say things like this? Claude had never been weak to flattery. He was used to discerning people’s motives, understanding when they were being insincere, figuring out what they wanted from him. Even with his past lovers, he’d taken the things they’d said with a grain of salt.

But Dimitri wanted nothing from him but this. Dimitri had never had an ounce of insincerity in him. He might conceal things, but it was not in his nature to manipulate. While they had both kept things from one another in their youth, since Claude had brought him to Almyra Dimitri had never been anything less than honest with him.

It was what made it so easy for him to trust Dimitri.

“You deserve far more than just a small part of anyone’s heart,” Claude said, trying to ignore the rush of heat in his cheeks, the way said heart was beating hard. He didn’t let himself get swept away by romance. He never had. “You don’t need to settle for that.”

Dimitri still smiled at him, artless and impossible to look away from. He wasn’t the handsome young prince Claude had once known. They were both older, but though Dimitri had traces of silver in his hair and scars that would never fade, Claude found him no less beautiful. More, perhaps, because the marks of survival that he bore were hard-fought, because he had been through so much and still he could smile like that. Still he could love so fully.

“I’m not settling for anything,” Dimitri said. “I am courting the king of Almyra, a brave warrior and a brilliant leader, the man who gave me the strength to take my life back. I’m reaching far beyond my station.” Claude had to laugh at that, shaking his head, but he fell silent when Dimitri continued. “I want to hold you, to have you in my arms and give you the love that you deserve. I want to be able to tell you what you mean to me, what you have meant to me for so long. I want to stay by your side until my last breath leaves my body.”

Claude tried to take a breath. It caught in his throat. He wanted to turn away from the force of this, but he couldn’t.

“Even if I cannot be your lover, I will still stay by your side. My vows will never be broken, Claude, I am yours. Even if you refuse my suit, my feelings for you won’t change. I have loved you for years. I will love you until the goddess takes me from you, whether or not you return those feelings.” He raised Claude’s hands to his lips then, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “But, though I do not wish to dictate your own feelings to you, please believe me when I say this. I know you, Claude. I know that you would not be afraid if you didn’t feel deeply about this. About me.”

Claude knew that he could struggle all he liked. He could lie to himself as much as he wished, pretend he didn’t know his own feelings, back away out of fear. It wouldn’t change anything, because Dimitri was right.

His feelings for Dimitri, when they were young and foolish and at Garreg Mach together, had never quite faded. Even when he’d thought Dimitri was dead, he’d looked back on those days with a wistful tenderness. Dimitri had been his first love, and to Claude that had meant something, even while he knew he would never see Dimitri again.

But he had been wrong. When Dimitri came back into his life he’d been brutally changed, far from the prince Claude had once known, even far from the rage-filled warrior he’d met at Gronder Field. Claude had only seen the echoes of the boy he’d loved.

Seeing Dimitri heal over those past few years had been remarkable. And perhaps it was inevitable that Claude’s feelings might spark to life again - especially given how much they had both changed.

Dimitri wasn’t that polite prince anymore, the one who had seen darkness but did not yet understand it intimately. But Claude wasn’t that smiling liar anymore, either. They had both grown so much, changed so deeply, and in the end what could have turned them into fundamentally mismatched people had instead brought them closer.

Claude had seen Dimitri through his darkness, and Dimitri had stood by Claude ever since, offering him friendship and a sympathetic ear and the sort of loyalty that Claude was still not used to. How could Claude not love him?

He wouldn’t be so afraid if he didn’t. He’d had enough lovers to know that - to know that it was easier for him to be with someone he didn’t feel deeply for, because then they could not easily hurt him and he didn’t need to bare his heart to them, either.

With Dimitri, that was impossible. It would be all or nothing, and Claude could not stand the thought of hurting Dimitri. Of breaking his heart, forcing him to suffer in order to keep his vow as Claude’s royal guard.

But, looking up at Dimitri, Claude could see that he was not afraid.

He looked at Claude with clear eyes and a settled heart. Dimitri did nothing without careful thought these days, after years of being lost in his own mind and living by instinct alone. When he had chosen to court Claude, he had surely considered it carefully and come to a decision with full knowledge of what he was choosing.

Claude sighed. He hadn’t pulled his hand from Dimitri’s grasp, and now he let his thumb skim over Dimitri’s cheekbone.

“If I hurt you in the end,” he said, “I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You won’t,” Dimitri said, utterly certain, and Claude tugged him down with a gentle hand so that their lips could meet.

It had been some time since Claude kissed anyone. He knew it had been even longer for Dimitri, he knew that Dimitri had not had a lover since he’d come to Almyra, too focused on his own recovery, his own needs. But Dimitri kissed like none of that mattered. He kissed like he’d been dreaming of kissing Claude for years. It should have been clumsy, awkward maybe, but it wasn’t. 

Dimitri’s lips slid against his perfectly - just enough pressure, enough hunger. Claude could almost feel him holding himself back, all that passion tightly leashed so as not to frighten Claude away. It made sense, after Claude had shown so much caution, but it made his heart hurt anyway. 

He slid his hand to the back of Dimitri’s neck, pulling him closer, letting the kiss deepen. In response, Dimitri’s arms wound around him and pulled him close too, against the warmth of his body.

They kissed for longer than they meant to. They kissed like they’d been wanting to for years, and Claude knew that was true.

When they finally parted, Claude was breathless and Dimitri was smiling, a tentative and sweet thing. He held Claude like something precious, the way he always had when they were young, the way Claude had missed without even realizing he missed it. 

Dimitri spoke in Almyran, when he spoke again. “If my courtship is accepted, I will treat you with all the honor and love that you deserve.”

Claude wrinkled his nose. They were ritual words, another part of the complicated Almyran courtship tradition, and he’d thought they were done with that - but then he saw the curl at the corners of Dimitri’s lips, the light in his eyes.

Dimitri was _teasing_ him. 

He laughed. He couldn’t help it, filled with delight at that, Dimitri teasing so gently, so sweetly. 

“Then what can I do but accept it?” Claude said, and Dimitri kissed him again. It felt like all his fears, all his caution was falling away in the face of those kisses, Dimitri’s happiness. He wanted this. He wanted Dimitri’s smiles, those arms around him, those lips on his. He wanted it all, and he had been a fool to delay it this long.

He would not be a fool anymore.

  


* * *

  


In Faerghus, Claude knew, they would be expected to court chastely for some time more. To walk together, and hold hands, and perhaps exchange light kisses if they were feeling especially daring. Chaperones would be involved.

Almyra had never cared much for anything of the sort. Once a courtship was accepted, the lovers could do as they pleased. Even for a king that was true - the only time who Claude had in his bed mattered was if it affected the country itself, or the throne. In fact, he was well aware that there was a considerable tradition of Almyran kings taking lovers from their royal guard, as there could be far fewer accusations of favoritism and far less political influence granted.

So while there would be gossip, he didn’t have to care. It would be nothing but a bit of talk, amazement that the king had taken a lover after so long alone, probably a few jabs about it being a man from Fódlan. But being sworn to the royal guard took precedence over any loyalty to another country, so it would only be talk. Claude didn’t have to care about it.

And that felt - freeing in a way he hadn’t expected.

He could simply be with Dimitri, without worrying about his country or his throne or the political implications. People would come up with their own interpretations, but there was nothing there that he’d have to worry about. There was only… this.

Being with someone he loved. Being with someone who he already trusted with his life, and more.

He’d asked Dimitri if he wanted to take it slow, but Dimitri had only looked him in the eye and said, “I feel like I’ve wanted you most of my life.” That would make anyone weak in the knees, Claude told himself, even as he felt his heart might break with the sincerity of it. And so they had retired to Claude’s chambers, because neither of them quite wanted to let go of the other.

Dimitri had been in there before, of course. Usually when they’d taken meals or tea together Claude had gone to visit him, but he’d come to the king’s chambers often enough that it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He’d stood outside them too, a silent guard in case anyone came in the night - which was not as out of the question as it might have been.

But now he was there for another reason entirely. He paused after they came in, as if uncertain of what was allowed, as if they might simply sit down at the low table and brew a pot of tea and talk about old friends. But while that would have been nice, Claude could not help wanting more, now that he felt like he was allowed to want. He stepped close, turning his face up to Dimitri, and Dimitri reached out as if it were natural.

He pulled Claude close and they kissed again, and this time they didn’t need to stop. This time, Claude could press their bodies together, the layers of fabric still thin enough that Claude could feel the warmth that Dimitri always seemed to emit. He had to stretch upward to properly kiss Dimitri, and Dimitri had to bend down. It wasn’t bad at all - Claude kind of liked it, really, liked the way it meant that Dimitri’s arms could wrap around him so easily. He’d never felt intimidated by Dimitri’s size, and now he could really enjoy it.

His hands on Dimitri’s chest began to slide lower, almost without him thinking about it. Claude knew that beneath all his fears, all his hesitation, he had wanted Dimitri for a long time. And now - now he could have him, now they could be together.

Now it was real.

“Is this all right?” He said it softly, practically against Dimitri’s lips, his hands resting on the sash holding Dimitri’s robes together. He dressed in the Almyran style now, like a warrior, another choice marking the line between the Faerghan royal he’d once been and the life he’d chosen now.

“Yes,” Dimitri said. There was the faintest hesitation in his voice, though, and so Claude did not move. He looked up instead, pulling away enough so that their eyes met.

“We don’t have to.” Claude meant it. He wanted this - wanted Dimitri - very badly, but he’d always been able to control his own desires. And after Dimitri had been so careful, had given him time and space and consideration, how could Claude not do the same for him? He’d wait as long as it took.

“It’s not that,” Dimitri said. He hooked his arm around Claude’s waist, drawing him back in. “It’s only… well.” He was flushed, Claude could see it now, his ears pink with something that was probably embarrassment. “I haven’t done this often, and not… not in a long time. If I disappoint you -”

Claude laughed, making sure to keep it light, to keep any mockery far away. “You can’t disappoint me, Dimitri. I just want to be with you. I don’t care what we do. Besides,” and then he grinned, impish, “you never used to have a problem keeping me satisfied.”

Dimitri really went red then, and Claude felt a surge of fondness. He remembered those days like they were a youthful fantasy, a childhood dream. He wondered if Dimitri thought of them similarly - the foolishness that had found them sneaking into each other’s rooms, trying to keep their voices quiet while they sought each other’s pleasure.

They’d been clumsy at first, awkward and uncertain of what they were doing, no matter how Claude had tried to pretend otherwise. But their quiet romance had lasted for long enough that they’d learned how to touch each other, how to kiss, how to find that pleasure together. Claude might have had other lovers, might have learned a few things since then - but it had been with Dimitri that he’d laid the foundations.

“I remember,” Dimitri said, soft, and then he bent down to press his lips against Claude’s neck, just the way Claude had always liked once upon a time. He’d worried marks into the skin there, marks that would be covered by Claude’s collar, marks that Claude had liked to look at when they were apart. He did it now, teeth grazing Claude’s skin, enough pressure to make him gasp.

“Just like that,” Claude said, breathless, and his hands began to work at Dimitri’s sash. It wasn’t difficult to unfasten it and let it fall to the floor, and after that it wasn’t difficult to peel Dimitri’s robes off of him until they were a pile on the floor as well. And Claude did the same to himself, with Dimitri’s help, until there was nothing between them.

They’d both changed so much from the boys they’d once been. Thanks to his crest, Claude had relatively few scars despite the amount of fighting he’d been involved in - but there still were some, ones Dimitri had never seen before. And Dimitri…

For the past few years, he’d eaten well. For the past year or so, he’d begun practicing with lance and sword again. He’d filled out, regained muscle, changed from the near-skeletal creature he’d been when Dedue found him to a well-built, strong man. But unlike the Crest of Riegan, the Blaiddyd Crest did not heal, and he’d been through so much. 

Claude did not spend much time studying the scars that marked him in so many places. He looked, and he took them in, and his heart ached with the reminder of all the burdens that Dimitri had borne. But though part of him wanted to lavish affection and attention on those scars - proof of life, proof of how hard Dimitri had fought to survive - he didn’t think that’s what Dimitri wanted from him right then. So he only looked, and he saw the moment when Dimitri looked away, as if he was ashamed of himself.

Claude stepped forward so that they could press together, so he could feel Dimitri’s skin against his and kiss him properly again. He slid his hands up Dimitri’s sides, not lingering on the ridges of scar tissue there, just touching him.

“I want you so much,” Claude said. There were a hundred other things he could have said, quiet compliments or reassurance, words that would make Dimitri flush. But he didn’t want Dimitri to think that anything he said was empty flattery, and he would have time. _They_ would have time. And that statement, at least, could not be denied. Claude’s own desire was showing itself, and he pressed against Dimitri more firmly, making his point eloquently.

Dimitri chuckled, a low and surprising thing. He wrapped an arm around Claude’s waist, letting his hand slide down over the curve of Claude’s bottom. It was far less tentative than Claude might have expected, showing a boldness that made him smile.

“I am yours utterly,” Dimitri said, and then he was lifting Claude.

He did it so easily. He always had, and it had always delighted Claude in a strange way - the knowledge that Dimitri was that strong, that his crest granted him immense power, and that he would never for a moment use it in a way that Claude might dislike. He’d worried at first, when they were young - afraid he might hurt Claude, afraid that Claude would be uncomfortable with his power. But Claude had coaxed him out of it, had reassured him, until that fear faded away. It seemed that it had not returned, even now.

Dimitri carried him to his bed. All his attention was on Claude, and for Claude the world fell away too, narrowing to nothing but Dimitri. His hands, his lips, the world around them that made it possible for this moment to happen.

Dimitri placed him on his bed, and it was gentle but certain. This was what they were here for. This was what Claude wanted. He tugged Dimitri down into a kiss, and then moved back so Dimitri could climb onto the bed with him, his large body covering Claude’s.

“Come here,” Claude said, breathless, and he reached out to pull Dimitri closer. They kissed, and even without meaning to he felt himself arching against Dimitri’s body, seeking out more. Dimitri’s hand slid down his body in return, seeking out every curve and plane, all the places that Claude had loved being touched once upon a time.

It was strange and perfect, impossible and amazing. Dimitri knew what Claude had liked, and in truth his preferences had changed little - if anything, he’d just pretended they changed in order to suit what people expected of him. But Dimitri cared nothing for that. All he wanted was Claude, to make Claude feel good, to make him gasp and moan. And he remembered what had done that, and so his hands slid down Claude’s waist, he settled between Claude’s legs.

“Is this all right?” He was soft and breathless, his body hovering over Claude’s, his mouth an aching breath away. “I want you.”

“Yes,” Claude said. He wanted this, he wanted nothing more than Dimitri’s body pressed against his. “Ah - in my bedside table -”

He reached out, but Dimitri did too, and Dimitri’s arms were longer. He tugged the drawer open and retrieved the oil Claude had been thinking of. It had been some time since he used it, some time since he’d done anything but ignore his own pleasure to focus on the needs of his country.

But now Dimitri was here, and they both knew what the other wanted.

Claude propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch Dimitri. He wanted to see all of this. He wanted to exist in this moment, to know what happened. He wanted it to be real. And so he watched Dimitri spread the oil over his fingers, watched as he reached down, as he pressed one finger into Claude.

Dimitri’s hands were bigger now, and Claude liked it. He caught his breath, raised his hips to make it easier. He was caught up in the moment, in his desire and Dimitri’s, but he didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. Hadn’t they been waiting for this for so long? Hadn’t he been dreaming of this man for years, and denying himself any such thing?

Dimitri slid another finger in, and Claude could not help but moan. He was already eager to have Dimitri inside him, to give himself to this man who he’d loved for so long. It had not been inevitable, he thought. It had been a choice that they’d both made. To be together, after everything.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Dimitri murmured. His voice was tight, Claude could hear desire in it, and he loved that. He wanted to feel Dimitri’s desire, to see it when they looked at each other. Between his legs, he felt Dimitri press a third finger into him, slow and steady, and it almost _was_ too much - but Claude took a breath, relaxed his body, welcomed the intrusion.

“Keep going,” Claude said, and now he could hear desire in his own voice, too. He didn’t try to hide it, made no attempt to hold on to control. It felt odd to do that, even with his other lovers he’d usually had a hard time losing himself in pleasure. But he already knew that he could trust Dimitri fully, with everything he had. He already knew that Dimitri would not hurt him, would not betray him. He knew all that, and he wanted Dimitri to know that Claude desired him as well.

For a moment Dimitri simply looked down at him, taking in Claude’s body beneath him, the flush of his cheeks, the way his cock jutted out, as eager as the rest of him. Then he hooked one arm under Claude’s knee, spreading him wider, while his other hand worked within Claude. He was focused on loosening Claude, readying him, but now and again his large fingers would hook and twist and brush that spot inside him, drawing soft gasps from Claude making him arch his back.

“Dimitri,” he said, when he couldn’t take it anymore. He was breathless, pleasure flowing through him with every movement of Dimitri’s fingers. “Please, I want you.”

Dimitri smiled, a soft and sweet thing, and he bent to press a kiss to the inside of Claude’s knee. “I am yours.” 

Then he slid his fingers out, leaving Claude empty and aching for something to fill him. He did not have to wait for long. It took only a moment for Dimitri to spread oil on his own length, and then he was pressing into Claude.

He went slowly, eye on Claude beneath him, watching his reaction. And that was good, because Dimitri seemed to have gotten bigger everywhere - though Claude remembered him being rather gifted even when they were young. He’d liked it then, liked the sensation of being so full, and he liked this now too, but even Dimitri’s careful preparation had not entirely readied him.

He felt the sweet stretch as Dimitri’s pressed in, and then _more_ , and it was almost too much. But there was not a power in the world that could have made Claude stop this. He let his head fall back, let his body relax so that he could receive Dimitri, and when Dimitri was finally all the way inside him, Claude could barely stand how full Dimitri made him feel.

He loved it.

When he looked up, his eyes met Dimitri’s. He saw a matching desire there, a need that echoed his perfectly. How long had it been since he’d felt this kind of connection with someone? He didn’t know. Never, maybe. Not like this.

“You can move,” Claude said. He was breathless, aching, wanting more. And Dimitri leaned over him, grip gentle on his leg, and began to move.

He was slow at first, slow enough that Claude could feel every inch of him, could feel the way he was holding himself back. Dimitri didn’t want to hurt him, and Claude’s heart ached with the tenderness of it, even while the rest of him was increasingly desperate for more.

“Goddess,” Dimitri gasped out, pushing back into Claude. “You feel so good. Claude…”

The slide of his cock made Claude’s back arch, drew a gasp from his lips as well. He moved with Dimitri as best he could, taking him deeper, encouraging him. “More - I want you -”

Dimitri pulled out and thrust into him again, this time a little harder, a little faster. It was so good, it was almost enough.

“You don’t have to hold back with me,” Claude said, and he caught Dimitri’s gaze, so clear and honest and brimming with need. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

And he did know that. It was something he had not doubted for years, not since he’d seen Dimitri struggling to find a way back to himself, struggling to become the man he knew that he could be. Dimitri would never hurt him, not while he still had breath left in his body.

Was it even possible for Claude not to love him?

Then Dimitri began to fuck him in earnest. He still held back, just enough to be certain he wasn’t hurting Claude, that he wasn’t going too hard or fast, but Claude could still feel the moment he gave in. The moment his hands clutched tighter, his hips snapped into Claude, his breaths turned into moans.

It was what Claude wanted, and it was incredibly good. All he could do was let that wave of pleasure crest over him, let Dimitri have him completely. His hole stretched around Dimitri’s cock, welcoming him, and he arched up into each thrust. That was good enough on his own - enough to give him exactly what he wanted - but every few thrusts Dimitri’s cock would slide against that spot inside him, sending a bolt of pure pleasure up his spine, drawing a cry from his lips.

When they had been young together, Claude had sometimes spoken to Dimitri during sex - teased him, coaxed him, whispered dirty words and sweet ones, told Dimitri what he wanted Dimitri to do to him. Dimitri had flushed, and occasionally stuttered out soft endearments, the kinds of things that Claude would think of again late at night and tuck away into his heart.

Claude had no need for coaxing words now, and yet still Dimitri found a well of impossible sweetness. His breath stuttered, his voice was tight, but he still said _you’re beautiful_ and _I want you so much_ and _Claude, Claude, there’s only ever been you_.

Beneath those words and Dimitri’s touch, Claude found himself falling apart so easily, so perfectly. When he reached down to wrap a hand around himself, knowing only a few strokes would push him over the edge, Dimitri gently brushed his questing fingers aside.

“Let me,” he said, “please,” and what could Claude do but say yes? It caught in his throat, Dimitri already wrapping his big hand around Claude’s aching need. He thrust into Claude again, stroking him in time, and that was all it took. Claude came with a cry, pleasure unfolding through him, body tense and back arching.

He was still gasping for breath as Dimitri continued to move inside him, the last shreds of his control falling away. He fucked Claude with short, hard thrusts, chasing his pleasure, his gaze never leaving Claude. The desire Claude saw there was almost unbearable, but he couldn’t look away, even as Dimitri reached his pinnacle and came inside him.

He shuddered above Claude, hair coming loose from the braid he’d kept it in and falling in his eyes. He looked wrecked, but Claude knew that he must, as well. He’d wanted this for so long.

They both had.

“Claude,” Dimitri said. His voice was rough but sated, and he pulled out of Claude carefully and moved to lay on the bed, so that they could curl close together. It had been a long time, but it seemed that he remembered that Claude liked that, enjoyed the warm intimacy that came after sex. He’d pretended otherwise once, made up reasons why Dimitri should stay, claimed to be cold or tired or anything to keep him close. Dimitri had seen through him then, and Claude had known it, but neither had ever admitted it to the other.

Now Claude saw no reason to pretend. He pressed close to Dimitri, slid his arms around the other man, heedless of his own seed drying on his skin or Dimitri’s inside him. They could clean up later. For now, this was what Claude wanted.

Dimitri was larger now than he had been, and he could easily wrap himself around Claude. He did so without hesitation, pulling Claude into his arms, pressing his face to Claude’s hair.

“Beloved,” he said, and Claude thought he was going to follow it up with something - a statement, a question, a stray thought. But he didn’t. He only let that word hang in the air, let it settle between them.

To his own shock, Claude felt his throat tighten, as if he might cry. Over what? Over a word? Yes, a single word, from a man who had been through hell and back, a man who had put himself back together out of shattered pieces. A man who had chosen his own path, and who had decided that path led only to Claude’s side. 

And Claude, who had loved that man for most of his life, had almost been too afraid to reach for this.

“I love you,” Claude said, and Dimitri said nothing in reply, only drew him even closer, brushed his lips against Claude’s temple. All of those fears felt like nothing now. Like foolishness, like nightmares that would disappear in the daylight that was Dimitri’s embrace.

After so long, after all these years, they had finally found one another again.


End file.
